Robert Dumas wrote: "I wrote this short story a few weeks ago in the middle of a bout with insomnia, and thought it might be fun to post it her on a.o; please let me know what you think. If it comes thru with the formatting garbled, let me know and I'll try to fix it. Please note that this is a draft, and that it is fictional. I am not the protagonist, so don't call the men in white coats on me. That said, here it is..."
The Dragon
by: Robert Dumas
He stepped out of the subway station into the park, the Dragon still tucked away in the pocket of his trench coat. The day was sunny, and the warm weather had prompted many to spend their lunch hours picnicking on this tiny spot of green which lay amidst the towering glass and metal buildings. No one noticed him as he paused to stare at the crowd; it was as though he didn?t exist at all. He began to walk slowly through the park, stepping carefully over and around the beach towels and picnic coolers.
Almost home. I?ll be safe once I get there. They'll be safe once I get there.
The Dragon was restless, and it concerned him deeply. What if its desires manifested themselves? He didn't think he could control its rage much longer, though try as he might, he also didn?t believe he could bring himself to harm these people, even if they were just sheep. How can I just walk through a crowd like this? he thought. What if it comes out?
No, he said to himself. I have to go this way to get home. Besides, even sheep have the right to exist.
Fool, the Dragon whispered, don't be so sentimental. Their conversation was non-verbal, but still the Dragon spoke in hushed tones. These people would destroy us and everything we represent without the slightest hesitation. We are trying to save them, liberate them from their tiny existences and show them how big they really are. But they don't want to be liberated, so more drastic measures must be taken to deliver a proper shock to their collective systems. Perhaps then they will be awakened.
He passed a pair of young professional women in trendy summer suits sitting on a Tommy Hilfiger beach towel, eating lunch from a Starbucks tote bag. They smiled and laughed gaily as they bantered and drank their four dollar coffee, no doubt discussing all the latest office gossip. He forced himself to look away from them as he passed; he could not bear the thought of what might happen to them if the Dragon had his way.
No, he whispered back. I won't do it, and you can't make me. Remember, you need me; without me, you're just a beat-up old .45, unable to do anything yourself. Without me, you're nothing.
The Dragon laughed softly; a shiver ran up his spine to hear it. You must be a bigger fool than I thought. You don't have the strength to oppose me; I can make you do whatever I wish. For such insolence, we shall do this, here and now.
No, he thought. I am stronger than you think. I can fight you, and I will. These people have done nothing, and I will not harm them.
Enough, said the Dragon. This incessant bickering is pointless. We will do this now.
He felt the Dragon move.
No. He clamped his hand down over the Dragon, keeping it at bay. It took all his strength to keep it in its Cave. He couldn't use his freehand; doing so might attract attention, the one thing he did not need right now. Attention would bring authorities and questions; he would never get home. He tried to walk as casually as he could, but he imagined that he must look like one of the subway crazies. He to get out of the park, out of public view, but he had to look calm, cool, casual.
The Dragon was still laughing as he struggled to hold on. Is this the best you can do? it asked. Why, I'm not even trying, and already you're sweating; I can feel it against my scales. Yield, it said. We both know who the stronger of us is.
And the Dragon increased its pressure by a hundredfold.
Oh no, he thought, I can't hold him off forever. He's going to win, and these people will die. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he realized this; the Dragon attempted to use the opportunity to free itself. For a moment he was forced to use his free hand to steady the other, barely keeping the Dragon in. He steadied himself before dropping his free hand back to his side. The effort was quickly draining him; he began to sweat profusely and his breathing became labored. The buildings seemed to crowd in on him, so close he could barely see the grass any more, barely walk between them.
The Dragon seemed pleasantly surprised, even impressed at his resistance. Perhaps I misjudged you, it said. Perhaps you are stronger than you appear. Still, it matters not. You will falter, and I will be victorious. Even now, I can feel the power building up inside me, inside us, preparing for the Moment.
He ignored these words. He couldn't let the Dragon beat him; this was too much, too far, too fast. It was a step over a line he could not bring himself to cross. He was the last man standing between the Dragon and these people, and he was losing the battle.
I've got to get out of here, he said to himself. I have to get home; he can't hurt anyone there.
Sweat burned his eyes like acid. His arm ached terribly, as though it were being ground to dust by the battle being waged over control of it. Still, he could not let go, even though he knew all was lost. The Dragon would eventually be free; that much was certain.
He was about halfway through the park when he saw the fountain. Large signs with a picture of a rat and the words DANGER: PESTICIDES written in bright red letters hung from it. He also saw that no one was sitting near it.
He felt his arm weakening; the Dragon would not be held much longer.
That's it, he thought. The final battleground. That's where we will fight for control. There, one of us will be victorious, and the other will disappear forever.
With that, he changed direction and headed for fountain and the showdown which would decide who would hold power. As he approached, the smell of the powerful chemicals used to kill the rats reached him and rapidly intensified.
How fitting, the Dragon said, now pushing with all its might. There was a fountain just across the street from the pawn shop we met in. You sat down there and we had our first conversation. Do you remember how we talked about changing the world, how we were going to free people from their slave-like existences?
I remember, he said, arriving at the fountain. The smell of rat poison was overwhelming. I remember how we said we were going to help people to free themselves, not force freedom upon them. He noticed several small holes in the concrete under the base of the fountain where the rats obviously lived. So why do you wish this?
Because, it replied, because they prefer the darkness of their cells to the bright light of freedom; they
prefer to be told what they need and want, rather than decide for themselves. So we must show them what free will truly can produce.
Please, he said. Please don't do this; I'm begging you.
Silence, it replied. Your pleas mean nothing to me. Just like these people.
He looked into the water without thinking, still struggling to hold back the Dragon. He knew he was weakening, knew that soon, very soon, the Dragon would overcome his weakened resistance and conquer him completely. And he wept noiselessly, wept for all these poor, stupid drones who had no idea what lay in store for them. He uttered a silent prayer, not to God, but to all that was left of himself, pleading for help which he knew would not come.
And then the answer came, like a knife piercing flesh; instant, painful, but true.
He knew what was required of him, recognized the card he could still play. The Dragon would be his once again; no longer would he be its puppet. He had to act quickly, conceal his ntentions so it could not retaliate. His arm was numb; he could no longer feel it.
The Moment loomed over him, screaming like a wall of noise as it approached.
The Dragon gave one final thrust, and was free. Time slowed to a crawl as the Moment broke like a wave, the lines of Existence crossing like threads in a blanket.
As the Dragon basked in its instant of triumph, it did not realize what he had done until it was too late, did not have time to counter his action. It could only accept it with mild, muted urprise, and serve its Purpose. Speak the only vocal word it knew.
As the Dragon came out of his pocket, he pointed it in the only truly safe direction, felt its cool, serpentine lips softly kiss his temple. He relaxed, realizing in that one crystalline moment that he had won; he had freed himself from the Dragon's clutches. Everything was going to be all right now.
A little girl playing on the grass nearby saw him. Not just noticed him, but really saw him. Perhaps she's the first person who?s ever seen me, he thought. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity as she stared at him before turning to tug on her mother's sleeve.
He felt wonderful. He looked up at the sky and saw blue, a blue deeper and more beautiful than he had ever seen, and felt the warmth of the heavens beating down on his face. The buildings were suddenly thousands of miles apart. He closed his eyes and a tear rolled down his face. His heart shone like a thousand suns.
What a lovely day it's going to be, he thought serenely, and smiled.
The Dragon spoke once, its single, pure note drowning out all others, and was silent forever.